The Eve of Potterdammerung

It’s 10:30 on Friday. I should be out and about, but no; I’m in the middle of a project too absurd to even go into. I keep being tempted by the Harry Potter parties â€” it’s the last book! I’ve never gone to a midnight party, despite my obsessiveness! â€” but sometimes it just works out that once you’re in for the night, working on a stupid project and sipping Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barleywine (which you swiped from your boyfriend, if you’re me), you’re in for good.

But Books Without Borders is just blocks away …

But if I go alone, I’ll feel … old.

The book will arrive tomorrow. I have some pretty serious guilt about pre-ordering from Amazon, but I did it for my own sanity: If I picked it up at midnight (which, if I go to a party, I will be hard pressed not to do), I wouldn’t sleep. I just wouldn’t. I read the last one in two days, hardly sleeping. I have a metric fuckton of things to do this weekend, and I need my sleep.

So the reading will start when the post-lady arrives tomorrow, and it’ll be documented here. No spoilers, I promise. Just … reactions. My emotional rollercoaster, in words! And maybe some thoughts about the End of Potter. Or maybe I’ll save those for the paper.

Either way, I promise to buy a book at my local independent bookseller within the next month. A hardcover even, to make up for my Potter disloyalty.